The Retaliation. Episode 9 - The Showdown

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

Friday 27^th November – The Sacristy of St Mochaoi’s Church, Kilcathclyde  9.16am

“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.  I want to be Archbishop of Kilcathclyde” stated Emma simply.

“You step down” she continued, pointing a bony, but beautifully manicured finger at Tartuffo, who stood still, staring, slack jawed at his old friend.  He could not believe what he was hearing.

“Go quietly and I’ll let you have this dossier.” she continued. 

“Of course” she said, “you have to take your minions with you.” Ella looked contemptuously at Bishop Black.

“Not forgetting of course, that wee numpty McKivon” she added.

“I intend to appoint my girls to the posts currently held by Black and McKivon with immediate effect.”

“Girls?” snorted Bishop Black incredulously. “Naw.  Don’t think so...”

“Marco!” remonstrated Tartuffo sharply.

“Well,” said Black, “Look at them! Especially her” he pointed at the hackett Prissy McLeod.

“She’s got a face like a well-skelped arse!”

Smirking, he edged forward and nudged Tartuffo conspiratorially “and you would know what that looks like eh? Eh?”

“Be quiet!” hissed Tartuffo. “What the hell are you trying to do?”

Emma spun round and pressed her face against Tartuffo’s. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

”You’re finished” she whispered menacingly.

Tartuffo reeled back, aghast.  In an instant, Prissy McLeod was upon him, trying to forcibly remove his too tight mitre, the muscles and veins in her hairy arms throbbing.

“Gerroff me, you strumpet!” he yelled, mustering all his strength to remove himself from the grip of her half-nelson.

With some difficulty, he reluctantly removed his mitre and handed it meekly to Emma.  Bishop Black removed his lip gloss and they both left the room in disbelief.

With that, the TWATTS cheered, shook hands and embraced.

Emma clapped her hands in order to get their attention.

Ever the pragmatist, she ordered “Girls, victory is ours! A new day has dawned. And now we have three priests to ordain. Get vested!”

As the Twatts busied themselves donning their vestments, perfecting their five o’clock shadows and donning their bald wigs, no-one noticed Sister Gertie sitting quietly in the corner, deep in thought.....

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.